


down the road the sun is shining

by Ms_FangTooth



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Desert Island Fic, Gen, RipFic, grief and banter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22242313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ms_FangTooth/pseuds/Ms_FangTooth
Summary: Cisco Ramon and Rip Hunter are marooned on a desert island.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 27





	down the road the sun is shining

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkShade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkShade/gifts).



> This was written for the 2020 Rip Hunter Discord Fic Exchange. It has not been fully beta edited because I'm shit at managing a deadline. We live and die like un-betaed men.

“That’s the last time I drink and vibe.” Cisco was eighty-five percent sure he hadn’t actually done that (he and Barry had joked about it, but despite appearances, Cisco had a lot more common sense than that), but it seemed like the appropriate thing to say when he woke up on a beach with a splitting headache. Unfortunately, his quip was wasted on his audience: which was three nearby palm trees and a large rock outcropping. They seemed unamused. “Tough room,” Cisco murmured.

There was an easy solution, of course, but when Cisco tried to concentrate on opening a portal back to Star Labs, nothing happened. “Great.” Cisco wondered how long it would take his friends to figure out where he’d gone and stage a rescue. He knew they would, but he also knew it would take some time. He couldn’t see any other nearby land masses, and while Barry had the messiah complex down, his ability to run on water wasn’t indefinite. “I hope you guys get here soon, because Oliver Queen, I am not.”

Cisco did take a moment to imagine himself as a brooding-yet-sexy vigilante lurking on the rooftops at night. Unfortunately, unlike some people, Cisco still needed to go to work in the morning. And archery lessons would probably be expensive. He’d have a better costume though, he always thought that Oliver should play up the Robin Hood theme more. The man would rock a feathered cap. Cisco scowled at the unappreciative trees, Caitlin would have laughed at that mental image.

Since rescue would take a while, Cisco started taking stock of the island. There were more trees on the other side of the rock and some bushes. He probably should figure out some food and shelter. There were coconuts, of course, it wasn’t a desert island without coconuts. But Saturday morning cartoons had never given clear instructions on how to actually open a coconut, and it wasn’t like Cisco could google it. (Could he? Cisco checked his phone briefly. No. Of course not. And the GPS wasn’t working either. Crap.)

He wasn’t alone on the island though. He could see footprints leading to a large alcove in the rock, as he came closer, he saw sunlight glint off of glass and metal. It was a time sphere.

_My goals are beyond your understanding._

_Because the truth is, I’ve grown quite fond of you._

_But to me, you’ve been dead for centuries._

Fuck. FUCK. 

“Hello?” _dead for centuries…_ “Mr. Ramon?” _shown me what it’s like to have a son_ … “Are you all right?”

Cisco took a deep breath, trying to bury the remembered pain of having someone rip his heart out of his chest and looked up at an unfamiliar face. The man looked back at him with deep concern, but then Eobard had been really good at faking concern, hadn’t he? Cisco tried to remember what he’d looked like in that split second after Eddie shot himself and the Harrison Wells mask dropped away. He was still tall, Cisco thought. And hadn’t his hair been red?

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment?” the man cajoled. His accent was British. Like Doctor Who, Cisco thought with a bit of hysteria. He certainly was dressed idiosyncratically enough, wearing a rumpled business suit, beneath a large, old-fashioned duster. 

It took some effort, but soon the man had Cisco sitting down, head between his knees, and the duster providing some cushion from the alcove wall behind him. He held out a small metal canteen, which Cisco accepted after a moment’s hesitation. After all, if this was Eobard, and he wanted Cisco dead, it wasn’t like Cisco could stop him. But it just held water, fresh and clear. Cisco drank.

“There we go.” The man started to give Cisco a pat on the shoulder and then froze, awkwardly shoving his hands in his suit pockets instead. Cisco put the gesture into a mental “maybe not Eobard” column. He could say a lot about “Doctor Wells”, but the man had never been socially awkward.

“Sorry,” Cisco managed after a moment. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He was telling the truth. It had been years since he’d even thought of the visions he’d had of his own murder. He’d faced down Eobard Thawne multiple times since then. He’d watched the man die. But somehow that sphere had brought it all back.

He offered the canteen back to the man, who accepted it back without even a hint of smugness or a villainous gloat. Another point in the “maybe not Eobard” column, because even when the man had been playing at being “Doctor Wells”, he still hadn’t quite been able to resist a good monologue. Cisco had always liked that about him. What the hell? Why not just ask? “Are you Eobard Thawne?”

“What? No!” The expression that the man gave Cisco resembled nothing more than an offended cat. “Good god.” That didn’t actually mean anything, of course, Eobard had been happy to play at being someone else for more than a year. But Cisco thought the reaction seemed genuine.

“You have his sphere. And I know it’s his sphere because I’m the one who built it.” This close, he could see some of the components that he jury-rigged. To an inventor, that was practically a signature.

“It was mine first.” The man insisted, which didn’t even make sense, because again, Cisco had built it. “Or at least, it was my design. Eobard stole it. Bastard.” For a moment, the man reminded him of Harry Wells, who often wore that same mix of frustration and annoyance when he was stuck dealing with the consequences of something Eobard Thawne had done while wearing his face. 

“So who are you? You obviously know my name.”

“Rip Hunter. We have a few mutual acquaintances who could verify my identity, but unfortunately contacting them isn’t really an option at this time.” That could be true, Cisco realized, the man did resemble Wally’s description of him. Down to a nose. Except for one small problem.

“Aren’t you dead?” Then Cisco wanted to smack himself, because hello! Time traveler! If the guy was genuine, then he might be meeting him out of order. Like when the Legends had that message from future Barry Allen.

But the sudden guilt on Rip’s face said something else entirely. “Ah, well…”

“What the fuck, dude?” All suspicion that this was Eobard was gone now. Eobard had never looked so miserable at being caught in a lie. Instead, all that was left was a flare of protectiveness toward his absent friend. Cisco had lost, or almost lost, enough people recently, and Wally was mourning someone who hadn’t even died.

“It made sense at the time.” Rip offered, tentatively. “I’d rather effectively burned my bridges with the Legends, and they could do more without my interference.”

“So you decided that faking your death was the right option?!”

“I didn’t ‘fake my death’! It’s not like I manufactured Mallus out of thin air.” He still pronounced it wrong. Wally had told Cisco about the way the time demon had corrected them. He’d wondered then if Rip had taught them the wrong name on purpose. At this point, Cisco was inclined to agree. Rip Hunter seemed like exactly that much of a douchebag. “I just didn’t tell them that I got away in time.”

Cisco’s mouth opened and closed. “That’s like the most colossal dick move I’ve ever heard in my life! If you could have seen Wally’s face, man. He was not okay with your death!” Rip had the nerve to look surprised at that, then more than a little guilty. Good. “Well, when we get out of here, you’re going to tell Wally the truth!”

Obviously Cisco had no way to actually enforce that. What he did have was a tone of voice borrowed from his grandmother, who was the grand champion master class of guilt trips. It’d take a stronger man than Rip Hunter to fight against that. Fortunately, Cisco would only ever use this power for good.

“All right.” Rip agreed, a hint of a rueful smile on his face. It was weird, but maybe the guy missed getting yelled at. From what Cisco knew of the Legends, there was probably a lot of yelling. “But first, we have to get out of here.”

“Where are we, anyway? I can’t seem to vibe out of here.”

“We’re in a sort of temporal trap, one used by my old employers, the Time Masters, to contain certain dangerous individuals who had the potential to be useful to them.” 

“Did you ever just stop and look around yourself and think ‘this feels like something a supervillain would be doing’, am I working for supervillains?” Then again, Cisco couldn’t really talk there. Not when Eobard had him basically running an extrajudicial prison for him. Rip was probably thinking something similar, given the quirk of his eyebrow, but mercifully, the man didn’t bring that up.

“Not as often as I should have.” Rip admitted. “We’re recruited fairly young and by the time we graduate from the academy, we’ve absorbed so much of the rhetoric that we didn’t often analyze it critically.”

“How old?” Cisco asked, curious.

“Usually between eight and twelve.” Rip answered.

“Supervillains.” Cisco sing-songed, as Rip rolled his eyes. “So how do we get out of here.”

“That’s a very good question. In truth, I’m not even sure how you got here. These traps tend to be single occupancy.” 

“Do we know who did this?” Always a useful question.

“No.” Rip admitted. “My best guess is that I’ve run afoul of one of my old colleagues who hadn’t been at the Vanishing Point when it exploded.”

“Do you actually know how to quit a job without blowing something up?”

“The opportunity has never arisen.” Dry as the desert. Maybe Wally had been right when he’d described Rip as kind of a douchebag, but also a pretty cool guy.

“So if this is some kind of tropical prison, then they should have food around here, right? I mean, if they were just going to kill us, they’d already have done it, right?” Cisco stood up intending to have a look around, when suddenly there was a shriek in the distance. Cisco found himself grabbed by the shirt and pulled downward, as the shriek was joined by others. The noise grew to the point where it started sounding like an old dial up modem. Ew. Rip pulled them farther into the alcove, as a loud fluttering noise began to build. Then a mass of dark shapes launched themselves across the sky above them. Cisco had no idea what they were, but those claws and wings said ‘predator’. Fortunately, the alcove was just large enough to conceal them from detection from above. One of them shrieked again, a sound that resembled a honking horn.

“Sorry about that.” Rip said, once the noise quieted down. The creatures seemed to have gone as swiftly as they came. “Bit of a location hazard. We should be all right for food and water, for now at least. I’d rather not get caught in the open.”

“Right. Well that’s terrifying.” Cisco settled back into the alcove. The nice, comfortable alcove that didn’t have flying creatures above it. “So I don’t suppose you know of a way out of here?”

“Unfortunately, the Time Sphere has been rendered quite powerless. But I’m open to suggestions.” Rip patted the side of the time sphere with absent affection, and Cisco wondered momentarily if it also had a Gideon. Actually, that reminded him of something he always wanted to ask.

“So Gideon. Is she the same as…?”

“As the Gideon that Eobard Thawne brought to your time?” Cisco nodded. “The short answer to that is yes. The long answer to that is complicated.”

“How complicated?”

“Have you ever been to the Vanishing Point?”

“Once. Creepy place.” More proof of villainy, in Cisco’s opinion. He hoped that Rip wouldn’t ask how he’d gotten to see it. Somehow he didn’t think the man would approve of the idea of Cisco getting drunk with Nate, Ray and Mick and taking an impromptu trip outside of time. Then again, he remembered that the alcohol they’d gotten drunk on had been dug out of Rip’s own office, so perhaps he wouldn’t mind.

“Did you ever think it looked familiar?” 

Cisco thought about it for a moment. He imagined the general shape of it: like a jagged, broken circle. He remembered the hexagon shaped cells. “Actually, yeah.” 

“In about fifty years an accident will happen involving the particle accelerator. You’ll understand why I can’t give you specifics, but suffice it to say, it will not longer be a presence in this time period. Or any.”

“Whoa. So Gideon came with it?”

“Yes. She actually formed the prototype of all of the Time Master AIs. Though she is considerably more advanced.” Rip’s smile turned fond, maybe a little too fond really. Cisco wasn’t going to judge the man for having a thing for older women. Though, he wondered how that worked now that Rip and Gideon were no longer on (in?) the same ship. And Gideon didn’t actually have a physical body. And did this make Barry Rip’s father-in-law?!

Did Nora and Gideon count as sisters? Cisco resolved to introduce them and find out. 

Then Cisco heard another shriek in the distance. He was lucky he hadn’t stayed out on the beach. “What are those things?”

“You can think of them as a sort of defense mechanism.” Rip explained. “They exist to keep us in one place and ensure that our stay remains less than pleasant..”

“So, I’m guessing we’re not on Earth anymore.” Cisco was pretty sure that someone would have noticed those things. 

Rip hesitated for some reason, then shook his head. “No, we’re not. And you’ll want to avoid letting them touch you.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Cisco said with the certainty that said that he was absolutely going to end up touching one before too long. Cisco was nothing if not genre savvy.

And of course it happened. The alcove was nice, but after a few hours of quiet camaraderie aided by a bottle unearthed from somewhere in the depths of the time sphere (and really, Rip Hunter had no place complaining about any drunken jaunts to the Vanishing Point if he’s keeping alcohol in his time ship), Cisco needed a bit of air. And those fuckers were fast.

And suddenly, Cisco was in Star Labs, with “Doctor Wells” standing before him, giving that same damn speech. Cisco tried to move, tried to run, but his body wouldn’t respond. Then that bullshit line about Cisco having been dead already and then, just as Eobard’s arm extended toward him, his surroundings flickered into somewhere else entirely. He was standing in the middle of a burning city, soldiers and bodies everywhere. Something was gripping his arm tightly, and with a yank, he was back on the island.

“What the hell was that?” Cisco demanded, once he caught his breath.”

“That was the defense mechanism. When those things touch you, they trigger an emotional memory, which is then reflected by our surroundings.”

“I was in Star Labs. Then I wasn’t.”

“I had to touch it to knock it away from you.” Rip shrugged, a deliberately casual motion that wouldn’t have fooled a blind dog. 

“So what is this place? Some kind of virtual reality?”

“Of a sort. Technically it’s more of a mindscape. Administered via a cognitive intrusion device.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“Does it really change anything?”

“Yes! No! I have no idea. But I’d like to know if I’m sitting in one of those creepy brain chairs!” Rip looked apologetic, and Cisco was reminded of what Wally had said: that Rip was a pretty cool guy, but also kind of a douchebag.

“I’ll keep that in mind if this happens again.”

“You do that. And seriously, creepy brainwashing chairs? Supervillains.” 

“Yes, I did eventually figure that out. Thank you.” Cisco winced, thinking of the burning city, remembering what else he was told about the man’s history. But Rip didn’t seem to mind the reminder. He seemed more annoyed than anything else. “Honestly, the robes probably should have been a giveaway,” Rip admitted.

“Nothing good comes of a grown man in a robe unless he’s also carrying a lightsaber.” 

After a moment or two of silence, Rip spoke. “Your memory. Was that Eobard? He looked different when I knew him.”

“Yeah, Eobard Thawne a.k.a Doctor Harrison Wells.” Not for the first time, Cisco wondered what working for the real Harrison Wells might have been like. Would he have been a dick like Harry? Or would he have been more like H.R.? How did they keep collecting versions of the same guy anyway?

“That looked painful.”

“It really was. Thankfully, Barry fixed things.”

“Ah, yes. Speedster time travel.” It sounded really strange to hear the word “speedster” coming from such a British voice. He made it sound like an official title or something. He was also grimacing.

“I’m not going to complain about it.”

“No, of course not. But then, you’ve never had to fill out the paperwork.” Rip shook his head. “Speedsters never clean up after themselves and there are always repercussions.”

“Tell me about it.” Cisco said, suddenly remembering Dante. Barry had believed that Dante’s death had been a result of the whole Flashpoint debacle (and that was reason #45 why Eobard Thawne wasn’t allowed to name things. Like “Reverse-Flash”, it was far too on the nose. Of course reasons #1-44 were because he was an evil dick). It was one of many reasons that Barry hadn’t been willing to go back and change it, afraid as he was of making things worse. It had taken a long time, but Cisco understood a bit better now. It still sucked.

Rip glanced at him, and Cisco wondered if Dante’s name was listed in that paperwork he mentioned. He thought about how easy it might be for the man to take the Time Sphere back to 2016. Then he thought about that burning city again and knew he’d never ask.

“How do you live with it?” Cisco asked, his voice suddenly hoarse. This was a question that he had always wanted to ask Barry, but he knew that he could never be so cruel. Rip was different, somehow. Maybe it was just that life had already smacked the dude in the face enough that a painful question wouldn't even register. “How do you deal with the fact that you have the ability to go back and undo every bad thing that’s ever happened in your life, but you know that you can’t do it?”

“I’m the wrong person to ask.” Rip said. “When Vandal Savage killed my family, I went back so many times to try to get them out that I’ve frayed the entire timeline in 2166 Whitechapel. There isn’t a single Time Agent who can even get near the place. I convinced eight strangers to join me on an inter-temporal suicide mission to try to get them back.” He took a deep breath. “Even now, if you offered me a new method that I didn’t know about or haven’t tried, I would probably take you up on it.”

Cisco hadn’t really anticipated that answer.

“But the timeline has a tendency to correct itself. And often, even if you manage to avoid one version of an event, it will just be replaced by another. The universe has endless variations.”

“If Barry did save my brother, he might drop dead because of a brain aneurysm next week?”

“Or he might live a long and fruitful life.” Rip admitted. “It can be hard to tell whether a particular event is fixed or mutable in the timestream.”

“That’s not very comforting.” Cisco might have preferred to think that it was completely hopeless. At least then he wouldn’t feel guilty for not pressuring Barry to try to save Dante.

“I suppose not.” Rip gave Cisco something that was probably supposed to be a smile, but had something of an ‘I just slammed the car door onto my finger’ quality. “If you focus too much on something that you can’t change, it will swallow you whole. The person I was when I recruited the Legends, that wasn’t someone I’d ever wanted to be. The things I’ve done aren’t things I ever thought I would do. And I know that’s not what Miranda or Jonas would have wanted for me.” He took a deep breath. “That’s what I try to focus on now. To be the person they would want me to be.” He smiled again, and this time it was rueful and much more genuine. “I’ve had dubious success so far.”

Cisco thought about what Dante would have wanted for him. He remembered what Dante had said about being jealous of him, and how he had pursued his passions no matter what. He thought Dante would be proud of the work Cisco did at Star Labs and helping to save the world. 

“So how do we get out of here?” Cisco asked, eventually. “I know you know how.”

Rip nodded. “I know how to get out. But the problem is that I don’t know what will happen to you. It’s possible that you’re strapped into a Cognitive Intrusion chair alongside me. In which case, you should be fine. But if you’ve gotten here any other way, I don’t know how to guarantee your safety. If I leave, this place may crumble.”

Well, that was a scary concept. Cisco still didn’t remember how he’d gotten here. But it wasn’t like they could stay here forever. “So I’ll go first. What do I do?”

“I call these creatures a defense mechanism, because they’re designed to keep us in one place. To leave, we just walk through them.”

Walk through them. Great. And get a surround sound replay of the worst moments of his life. But he could do it. He knew he could.

He glanced over at Rip. He remembered the way that the man talked about his family. He remembered Wally relaying the man’s last words. He remembered the way Rip was still hiding from his friends and allies. “On second thought, let’s go together.” He reached out a hand and Rip, with some surprise, took it.

So the walk wasn’t fun. The creatures converged on Rip and Cisco immediately, causing flashes of the worst moments of their lives. The image of Dante’s hands enveloped in ice giving way to an older man gesturing toward a glowing machine, which in turn gave way to visions of Iris’s death at the hands of Savitar. Eobard Thawne had a starring role in both sets of memories. “Asshole,” Cisco murmured, while Rip gave a breathless laugh. They didn’t stop walking forward.

Actually, Cisco realized, having two of them might have been a blessing. Cisco’s memories warred with Rip’s for supremacy, with both sets practically jostling each out of the way. The memories, while painful, were very quick. Cisco thought it was like getting slapped in the face each time. It hurt, and he was going to have a hell of a bruise when it was over. But he would make it through. They both would.

Cisco’s eyes shot open, and he found himself in a very uncomfortable chair. The room was filled with glowing panels. It was very Star Trek, though more of the run down DS9 set than any of the Enterprises. There was a woman standing there, a sidearm at her hip. She reached for it as soon as she noticed he was awake, but Cisco quickly discovered that his powers worked just fine here.

“This way.” Rip pulled himself out of his own chair, leading them down a corridor to a locked room. It didn’t take long for him to get the door open. The time sphere was inside. “Let’s go,” he said. Cisco didn’t even hesitate. He helped build it after all, he deserved to ride in it at least once.

It was a little cramped, admittedly. Rip tapped something into a console, and Cisco heard a familiar voice respond: “Transmission received, Captain Hunter.” A moment later, he caught a glimpse of a very familiar time ship outside the window. Rip smirked, and then the Time Sphere was gone.

**Epilogue:**

Cisco had made it through his adventure none the worse for wear. Rip had dropped him off at his house, leaving him to make his own way to Star Labs, where a relieved Caitlin gave him the biggest hug ever.

A few days later, Cisco was working late at the Lab when a blur shot into the room. It was Wally. And he’d brought a friend: Rip, who didn’t seem to mind getting dragged along by a speedster. He waved.

“We came to invite you out for karaoke.” Wally said, and it seemed like a weight had been lifted off of him. Rip still looked like Rip, but he seemed a little happier too.

“I am the karaoke king.” Cisco grinned and followed them out to the time sphere.


End file.
